A Morning In January

You can only say fuck you for so long,
before the wear and age of your song
changes to grey whispers and long nights
and the scars heal on those age old slights.
Still in knots where I see her somewhere,
and I suppose there’s a part that still cares.
Years pass and you have to close the door,
leave the bones of heartache under the floor.
After the ice breaks and you fall on through
and you drop from the heights were her angels flew,
put the pieces back somehow and start again.
Letting a lover down; we’re all guilty of that sin.
A morning in January, the weak sun rising on the beach,
the wind biting warm skin, heaven within reach,
have to hope she’ll come, walking through the sand
and into some sweet futur we’ll walk hand in hand.
Bury the hurt of the past now, in the dunes,
or launch them into space, out to Saturn’s moons.
Keep a fire of light and adoration burning,
to make bearable the fact the world is always turning.

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